Blinding Fear (28 page)

Claire smiled and looked at Cutler. “I was just getting to that.” She reached into the valise she’d brought and pulled out the letter that Ranjit had stolen and held it up. “This letter is from Francesca Sporano, the President’s National Security Advisor. It’s addressed to FBI Director Gina King. It authorizes her to appoint a special agent who will be allowed to use any means necessary to, in her words, ‘suppress and contain public knowledge of the developing international emergency.’ The letter allows whoever that person is to use deadly force whenever and wherever they think it’s necessary!”

In spite of the staid nature of the proceedings, most of the board members gasped in shock.

“It is, of course, a forgery, a fake!” Cutler declared angrily. “Anybody with a computer could make one. Let me see it!” He stood up and started to walk around the table to Claire’s place.

“Sit down, Mr. Cutler!” Spielman barked.

Cutler did so but demanded, “Where did you get that?”

“If it’s a fake, what does it matter?!” Herc responded while staring at Cutler with a cold smile.

“I.....I.....don’t...” Cutler stuttered.

“Of course you ‘don’t,' you sanctimonious ass!” Herc snarled, “because you know it’s real!!”

“How dare you!!” Cutler roared “I am the President’s......”

“Enough!” Arthur Weisman, the board’s senior counsel loudly declared. He turned to Claire. “May I please see the document, Miss McBeth?”

“Of course,” Claire replied. She immediately stood up and brought the letter to Weisman who carefully took it and began to read. James Golden slid closer to join him.

The others leaned forward with keen interest. When he finished, he slowly put it down, turned to the senior Spielman and quietly said, “Looks like the real McCoy to me, Rudolph. I’ve seen King’s signature many times. And one set of initials at the bottom looks like the President’s.”

“Impossible!” Cutler stated flatly.

“Then come see for yourself,” Weisman said.

“I don’t need to,” Cutler responded petulantly. “I know it’s not real.”

“Well, there is a scientific way we can determine the authenticity of the letter beyond a shadow of doubt. It became known a number of years ago that the President and all of his top advisors use one-of-a-kind, specially blended inks when they sign or initial official orders or directives. Under a blacklight they fluoresce with a color that is unique to each person. The President’s ink will fluoresce in red. Ms. King’s is dark blue. The others have their own color as well. It’s an additional security feature that ensures those receiving the document can know it comes directly from whom it’s supposed to: A signature within a signature, if you will. And it so happens that because we occasionally.......uh,....shall we say, find ourselves in the possession of.....official documents, we have a blacklight in the building. In fact, it’s in this very room.” He turned to Golden. “Jim, would you get it for us, please.”

Golden stood up and walked to an elegant sideboard where he opened a drawer and drew out a fluorescent tube fixture with a long electrical cord. He returned to Weisman’s position and plugged the tube into a nearby electrical outlet.

“This will only take a few moments,” Weisman said and flicked the switch to turn it on. He laid the letter on the table and slowly waved the blacklight back and forth several inches above it. “No question. You can see it clearly. Sporano’s signature is fluorescing a dark, somewhat metallic, blue. In natural light, it looks black. The initials I assumed were the President’s are showing up blood red.”

“How appropriate,” Ranjit said quietly.

No one spoke for several seconds as they all looked at Ranjit.

Weisman continued. “You can see the other initials are each glowing in a different color. I don’t know who the other colors belong to but.....”

“They identify signatures as those of the Vice-President, Secretary of State and White House Chief of Staff,” Ranjit added. “Their initializations were clearly designed to provide additional credibility and authority to the letter.”

“Why don’t you all come and look,” Weisman asked the rest of the board members.

Everyone except the elder Spielman, Claire, Ranjit and Cutler stood and walked to look over Weisman’s shoulder as he continued to “wand” the letter. Claire could see they were all deeply troubled by what they saw.

“It is now clear to me there are those in this meeting who no longer need or want my input,” Cutler said as he closed his briefcase and stood up.

“Yeah,” Herc growled. “Like everybody!”

“I won’t dignify that with a response.” He carefully buttoned the jacket to his suit, scrupulously straightened it, then turned to Rudolph Weisman. “If you insist on taking this nonsense seriously, the President is prepared to immediately seek emergency injunctive relief in U.S. District Court to prevent the Sentinel from releasing information that would cause grave harm to America’s security.”

“The First Amendment of the Constitution guarantees a free press, Mr. Cutler,” Spielman cooly responded. “As this newspaper has done for more than a hundred and sixty years, we intend to exercise that right to its fullest!”

For a reason Claire did not understand, Cutler did not immediately leave. For a few moments he stood looking around the room as if hoping someone else would say something that would cause him to stay. Finally, he strangely said, “It is.......unfortunate you have chosen this course.” He picked up his briefcase and walked toward the exit. Claire turned slightly in her swivel-action executive chair to watch him leave. She saw Herc do the same. For some odd reason Cutler pulled the door open slowly. He stepped through the opening and then turned to pull it closed. As he did so, Claire saw him look out the large windows at the other end of the room and nod his head every so slightly. As the door closed she turned to look at Herc who had a puzzled look on his face. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide and he screamed, “Everybody get down!! He dove for the floor, knocking over his chair and pulling Claire with him a fraction of a second before she heard a loud popping noise from the windows. A second later she peeked out from beneath the table looking toward them and saw two identical small holes, four feet apart, about halfway up one of the windows.

At that instant, the door burst open. Their bodyguard with his gun drawn and the receptionist burst into the room. “Someone’s shooting at us!” the woman cried. “Is everybody okay?!”

Claire looked around and could see the other board members—who had also flattened themselves in the carpet—anxiously looking out from underneath their tables. She suddenly remembered Kay and Ranjit and spun on her hands and knees to see if they were okay. Thankfully, both of them appeared to be shaken but unhurt. They both looked at her, silently asking the same question. Everyone slowly stood and stared at the windows, then tried to trace the trajectory of the bullets. Claire surmised that probably two snipers in one of the skyscrapers in the distance had tried to take out her and Ranjit. She turned to look at the wall behind them and saw identical, one-inch diameter holes in the beautiful paneling.

“Mr. Cutler left in a big hurry!” the receptionist breathlessly added. “Right after he left the boardroom he literally ran down the hall and took the stairs instead of the elevator!”

The guard yelled, “Close those curtains!”

“Please call 9-1-1 if you would, Miss Barr,” Rudolph Spielman said calmly as he pushed a button beneath the table. The curtains closed automatically and the lights came up slightly as the room darkened further.

“No! Wait!” Herc cried just as Miss Barr turned to go back to the telephone on her desk in the reception room. “Don’t call!”

She hesitated, looking at Spielman.

“Mr. Ramond!” Spielman retorted. “We’ve been shot at!”

“You don’t understand! They’ll do anything to stop Claire from writing her story! If you call 9-1-1 the NYPD will be swarming all over this place in minutes! Not long after that, so will the FBI. Another hitman will almost certainly be disguised as a patrol officer or detective or forensic technician or anybody!”

“But that’s insane!” Weisman countered. “We now know what’s going on!”

“Fear does that to people, Mr. Weisman,” Herc said trying to calm himself. “They do things that to others seem completely irrational—even stupid. Essentially, they become blind. All they can see or think is they have to stop whatever they’re afraid of. The same thing applies to any group of like-minded people. The fear spreads like a virus and infects everyone in it. That’s what’s happening to government leaders right now. They believe that to stop the asteroid, they have to stop Claire—and now you—from publishing her story. As long as the story’s not in print they’ll do whatever it takes to stop it.”

No one said anything for nearly a minute trying to comprehend the enormity of what had just happened and its short and long-term ramifications. Finally, Rudolph Spielman said, “Please be seated everyone. I believe Mr. Ramond is right. Miss Barr, hold that call. Please contact anyone else who may have been scheduled to come before us this evening. Apologize and let them know we will get back to them later to set a new appointment.”

As Miss Barr closed the door Spielman folded his hands again and looked slowly around the room. “I think it is fair to say the evidence for the asteroid conspiracy as Miss McBeth and her colleagues have presented is compelling. But there are a couple of things that quite frankly confuse me, Miss McBeth. First of all, if we don’t publish your article, what happens?”

“The government continues to try to buy time by squashing all attempts to reveal the approach of the asteroid,” Claire replied, “right up to the point when it’s visible to the naked eye. Then they will say that despite most astronomer’s opinions, the asteroid will miss us.”

“Why?” Weisman said.

“It’s just like I said earlier,” Ranjit added. “Because they plan to blow it up with nuclear bombs very close to the Earth. Trying to send a missile to meet it deep in space involves guidance and propulsion technologies that we’ve never used in nuclear missiles before. It’s not just point and shoot. The further out the asteroid is, the harder it is to hit. With such slim time margins they don’t want to risk the effort collapsing as key workers go home prematurely.”

“What happens if we do publish?” Weisman asked.

“The administration will try to deny it as long as possible anyway,” Ranjit said. “Keep things going as best they can and then launch just as they planned all along.”

“So they stay on track no matter what we do?” Spielman interjected.

“Yeah, probably so,” Claire said.

“Then let’s do what we’ve been doing for a very long time:” Spielman said with solemn finality. “Keeping the public informed of events that are vitally important and affect them. All in favor of publishing Miss McBeth’s article, please indicate by saying ‘Yes.’”

Claire watched and listened with relief as all seven board members approved with loud ‘yeses.’ She could now begin the most important work of her life. Whether that importance meant anything at all, as a terrifying future hurtled toward the world, was another thing entirely.

Chapter 41

“It’s really good, Claire!” Herc said as he put down the proof sheets of her article. “What do you guys think?”

“Excellent!” Kay added as he browsed his copy. “It hits every important point and makes them understandable. I’m not a journalist but to me it’s got a smooth flow that makes for easy reading even though it’s filled with technical stuff.”

“I definitely agree,” Ranjit continued. “Very nice! Have you run it by the Sentinel’s editorial staff yet, Claire?”

“No,” she said. “I wanted you guys to see it first. We’ve been through so much together it seemed only appropriate. And of course there was no question you three would have to do the fact checking. Hopefully, I’ve got it all right.”

Once she’d gotten the go-ahead from the board of directors they’d immediately realized it would be far safer for her to stay in the building and get the article written as quickly as possible. The risks associated with going back to the hotel, out to eat and to other places on the streets of New York, far outweighed the minor inconveniences of staying put.

Herc, Ranjit and other Sentinel employees brought her everything she needed: meals, changes of clothes, toiletries, even her usual blended morning breakfast drink. She used an office vacated by a middle-management executive who’d left for an overseas assignment. It was a more-than-comfortable suite, that included a spacious office, full bathroom with a shower and a small but restful bedroom. Over the course of her career she’d heard newspaper higher-ups occasionally had to pull all-nighters in the course of getting out an important edition. The suite enabled them to stay on the job as long as necessary.

Although Kay wanted to help, he quickly realized after being away as long as he had that his Space Tourism and many other business ventures needed his attention. Fortunately, the Sentinel’s management allowed him to use one of the paper’s video conference rooms. In it he was able to hold multiple staff meetings with his management teams and others to get other much needed work done.

Claire smiled. Finally, the article she’d fought and nearly died over multiple times was done! She could hardly believe it!

“So, how about it, guys? Any obvious errors or omissions?”

The three men looked at their individual copies briefly, at each other, then shook their heads.

“What’s here should be,” Herc observed.

“It looks quite long.” Kay noted. “How many words?”

“A little over 3,000.”

Herc whistled softly. “That’s what, maybe triple the length of the average news article in most major dailies?”

“Yeah, but the importance of the subject matter dictated the length,” Claire explained. “When I started, the managing editor gave me free reign. He said, ‘Write till you’ve covered it all,' so I did. From what I’ve heard it’ll not only be above the fold but most likely cover the entire front page.”

“What will your headline be?” Ranjit asked.

“That I don’t write. We’ve got a group of dedicated headline writers. It’s an art form by itself. If it was me it might be something like ‘President authorized deadly coverup of inbound asteroid.’”

“Speaking of the President,” Herc pointed out, “I saw in the article that just as we predicted, when you called the White House for a response, his press secretary denied everything,” Herc pointed out.

“If you think about it, it’s the only option he’s got,” Claire responded. “What’s he gonna say: ‘Yes. We’ve known all about it for six months and personally authorized killing amateur astronomers right and left who tried to tell others.’ There are some legal scholars who say normally it would take at least two years to impeach and remove a president from office. In this case it might take two days—if anybody felt like pursuing it!”

“That’s about all the time we’ll have left if the ‘nuclear option’ doesn’t work,” Herc gloomily pointed out.

The depressing thought yanked the group back to reality, casting a pall over their short-lived celebration in getting the article written. Claire looked from one to another as they sat in the office she’d cloistered herself in for the last three days. The setting sun bathed the room in angular pools of gold.

Although she knew she was falling in love with Herc, she also knew she’d gained what would normally be lifelong friends in Kay and Ranjit. Overcoming the staggering adversities they’d faced tended to do that. Soldiers in war usually felt the same kind of bonds. It deeply saddened her to think the asteroid would almost certainly end their relationships—and everyone else’s—unless the government’s last gasp somehow worked. It suddenly occurred to her she’d never said something very important to them. “Thank you for everything, guys. Whatever happens, I’ll never forget you.”

The four looked at her and each other.

“Okay! Okay!” Herc suddenly blurted out. “Let’s go! Group hug!” He waved toward the others. Ranjit and Claire moved in quickly but Kay hung back. “Come on, Kay! You too!” Kay smiled slightly then slowly walked forward to join them in a circle, their arms around each other’s shoulders. After a few moments, Claire broke away and gave each of them an individual hug, saving the last for Herc. As they embraced she whispered in his ear, “I love you!”

“And I love you, too!” he murmured in return.

As they separated she looked into his eyes and saw he was tearing up slightly. He turned away quickly as she did also. She guessed that just as she was, he was sadly wondering about the ‘What-ifs.’

The four returned to their seats and picked up the proof sheets to again read the article and look for areas that could be strengthened. After a few minutes they put them down realizing there was nothing more to do.

“So what are you going to do now, Ranjit?” Kay asked.

“Well, obviously I’ve got to get back to my family. After that I’m not sure. Quite honestly, when Veena was in the hospital, she and I talked about going back to India for a while—assuming we survived Gnash’s attempts on our lives. Neither of us have seen our parents in years. They haven’t seen our kids since Alisha was a baby. All of them live in a small town north of Mumbai. It’s a very traditional community. Our marriage was arranged by our families.” He smiled. “At first, both of us were 100% sure we’d never fall in love. Now we’re 100% sure we’ll never fall out of love!”

Kay was silent for a little while. Claire could sense he was considering something important.

“Why don’t you just do it! Get on a plane and go!”

“It’s simple really—money. Normal air fare from Salt Lake City to Mumbai is nearly two thousand per person and of course I’ve got no job. I just can’t.......”

“You can use my Gulfstream 650. It’ll get you there with one stop.”

Ranjit looked at him incredulously. “What?! Are you kidding?!”

“Not at all. You can get on the next flight from LaGuardia to Salt Lake City. I’ll have my staff make your reservations here and for a private plane in Salt Lake to fly you to Wendover. I’ll call DeAngelo and tell him to arrange for a taxi to take your family to the airport. Two of our pilots will fly the 650 to meet all of you there. DeAngelo will accompany you to India for protection and whatever other assistance you may need.”

“Kay! That’ll cost you tens of thousands!”

“In times like these, what’s money for but to help people? Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”

Claire felt herself tearing up as she watched the two men. Ranjit stared at Kay for a moment then walked over and enfolded him in a bear hug. “Thanks, Kay!” Ranjit said as they separated. “I...don’t know......”

Kay smile broadly. “There’s nothing else to say. You’d better head back to the hotel and pack. I’ll call my staff to get things rolling.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Ranjit looked at the others. For a moment Claire could see him trying to find something appropriate to say. Finally, he simply turned to each, gave them additional hugs, waved and headed out the door.

The three watched him go, then Kay sat back down on the sofa, pulled out his smart phone and keyed in what Claire assumed was his office number.

She went back to her laptop, did another quick run-through of her article, then sent it through the Sentinel’s intranet to her new boss for approval.

Herc watched from where he was seated. “How long before it hits the streets?”

“They’ve got it slated for this coming Sunday’s edition—so two days. That’s the day they almost always run big stories. Normally, from final draft to ink-on-paper would take a lot longer for something this important. Typically, they run it by legal for their input then top management for final sign-off. Legal alone sometimes takes more than a week. Management approval another week or two. You can see they’ve got it fast-tracked.”

“So what’s next?”

“Wait and see if we get all the necessary approval signatures. Then stand back and watch what happens.” She settled into her chair, waiting for confirmation her boss had received the article.

“I think I’ll see what’s on the NASA channel,” Herc said as he got up to turn on the large-screen TV. “It’s been a while. In the past I’d check it out at least once a day.”

He picked up the remote control and hit the power button. Moments later he excitedly said, “What the hell is this?!”

Claire quickly turned to watch just as a picture of three attractive, young men and an equal number of women appeared on-screen. The female announcer was beginning to identify them. For some odd reason, none of the six were smiling in their head-and-shoulders photos.

“We’ll start with the female members of the team,” the announcer said. There was no excitement in her voice. As she named each one, their individual photo filled the screen along with a caption that showed their name, age, profession as well as city and country of origin. “First, there is Hawa Patel, 26, a molecular biologist from Jaipur, India; next is Iolani Keahola, 25, a dentist from Honolulu; and the final female member of the Long-Duration ISS Mission to prepare for a trip to Mars is Isabelle Jenkins, 29, an IT Specialist from Los Angeles. Now, here are the males members: Anatoly Bazhenov, 24, an industrial engineer from Kiev, Russia; next is Abeeku Chiamaka, 28, a surgeon from Johannesburg, South Africa; and finally there is Cheung Dai, 27, a test pilot from Beijing.”

Claire and Herc looked at each other with similar “we-knew-it” expressions.

Herc glanced at Kay who was just completing travel arrangements for Ranjit. “You might want to see this, Kay.”

“Something important?” he asked as he walked over to join his friends who had moved to the sofa in front of the TV.

“NASA’s announcing the members of their so-called ISS long-duration mission,” Herc replied.

“Really!? Are they sending them up now?” Kay asked. “I thought it was at least a week away.”

Herc paused for a second. “They must have gotten word about Claire’s article in the Sentinel. They’re afraid the exposure the article will bring could in some way jeopardize the mission. They must believe they have to get it off the ground before Sunday.”

“It’s just as we suspected,” Kay observed. “All young. All attractive. Very smart and ethnically diverse.”

“Can you imagine the battles the selection committee fought trying to decide who would be on the team,” Claire declared. “They knew they had to somehow include as many ethnic groups, nations, and social classes as possible. Literally, the future of the entire human race was at stake, or so they thought. They wanted as wide a genetic pool as possible combined with essential skills and personal compatibility. And of course they had to make sure that every member was capable of procreation. How they managed to cull the roster down to these six is a miracle!”

Just then the picture switched to a long view of a huge rocket booster sitting on its launch pad. Steam and other condensing, super-cooled gases billowed and streamed from various places. A countdown clock showed less than three minutes until launch.

They all listened as the announcer continued.

“We’re at T-minus two minutes and counting as technicians and engineers at the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakstan standby for the launch of the Progress M-28-L booster with the six-member team for the ISS long-duration mission.”

“Wait a minute! Herc exclaimed. “That’s the L-model! It’s the previous generation of the Progress line of boosters! They must not have had any Ms available! There were at least three incidents that I can remember where they had to scrub the launch of Ls because of last-second glitches with the engines. There was even one explosion on the launch pad!”

“We’re at T-minus twenty seconds and counting.......power and guidance are now on-board.......all systems are in the green.......10-9-8-7-6.....”

They watched as enormous plumes of fire and smoke belched from beneath the booster.

“4-3-2-1.....lift-off! We have liftoff of the Progress booster with the Soyuz MS capsule and the six intrepid astronauts and cosmonauts on their way to the International Space Station!”

The rocket slowly, almost ponderously, rose from the launch pad on top of a 100-foot column of fire, and began to accelerate.

“Come on!” Herc begged.

“Maybe it’s going to be okay!” Claire cried.

Suddenly the rocket began to tilt slightly.